


The Letter Q

by White_Noise



Series: The Other Life of Quentin Holmes, Quartermaster [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Noise/pseuds/White_Noise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many theories revolving around Qs Scrabble mug but none of them are close to the truth. This is the true story of a boy and his mug. And a sneeky secret agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letter Q

**Author's Note:**

> So I went and saw Skyfall again and finally saw this mug everyone has been talking about on Tumblr and well, I couldn't help but add a Bondlock twist. So here it is, a fluffy little piece on the mug and its owner. Also, Bond wants Qs real name and is not above underhanded mentions to get it.
> 
> Another for Cathryn, my favorite fanatic.

There were many preconceptions seeded and cultivated in the depths of Q branch. Many rumours which had been birthed behind the secret walls of MI6.

Most times, they could be traced back to bored agents and hackers, content to socialise within the confines of their workplace, adding strength to the gossip corner which despite efforts made by three consecutive Quartermasters, two Ms and whichever Double Os were currently the target of the rumour of the month, remained as powerful as ever.

The gossip corner was smart, resourceful and all seeing. Nothing was too small, too insignificant to escape its grasp, from rumours of inter office liaisons (mostly Double Os but the more cocky junior agents did sometimes take centre stage) to the unending amazement at the survivability of the former Ms ceramic Bulldog which now help a place of pride in the all but abandoned desk of Agent James Bond.

Once again, the rumour mill turned, every member allowed to add their thoughts to the current topic.

"It’s an ego thing!" a young hacker called Jones muttered, nibbling on a biscuit as the two field agents beside him nodded in agreement. "I mean, he's the youngest Q ever! Tell me he isn't flaunting it!"

"No, it's not." one of the medics replied. "I swear he had it back when he was R."

Jones nodded.

"But that just proves my point. He knew he was going to become the Quartermaster and wanted to show off."

Jones looked over at the medic.

"Come on Angie, tell me you don't think the same thing." he challenged.

The medic, Angie, looked down at the floor, her face flushing red.

"He never seemed ego driven to me." she muttered. "Every time I saw him, he was always really nice and polite."

Looking up from his cup of instant coffee, Tanner caught the eye of Eve. The ex-field agent rolled her eyes. 

The current topic of conversation, the origin of Qs personal scrabble mug had been a hotly debated topic for the last two days and both senior members of the group were getting sick of it.

Just about every aspect of the Q mug, as it had been called, had been discussed. From the reason the Quartermaster owned it, to its surprising longevity within the branch to the locations of stores where others could buy their own mug (This action however, had come with a warning after one afternoon when Double O Seven had gone through the cupboard in Q branches small break room and broken every scrabble mug he could find. When asked why, the agent had shrugged and walked off with the only surviving mug from his assault, the original Q mug.)

The mug in question had survived more than just Double O Seven’s aggression. It had been knocked from desks during explosions, tossed in the air by bored and slightly suicidal agents, written on with permanent markers and, on one memorable occasion, thrown at the viewing screen when the government agent Mr Mycroft Holmes had commandeered it to request a word with Q while the man had been in the middle of a complex mission (That was, coincidently, the only time any member of Q branch had heard their boss swear, the young man cursing as he stalked into his office and slammed the door closed behind him.)

Now, the gossip had turned to the origin of the mug. 

Eve had to admit, she hadn't known Q in his first year at MI6, but she did clearly remember seeing the mug during the younger mans time as R.

Tanner on the other hand, had a bit more knowledge. In fact, he was one of the few people still at MI6 who had known Q in the very early days. He had been one of the arresting officers when the young hacker had first been discovered and had also been the first of the assigned keepers when M had chosen to recruit, rather than imprison him.

Tanner had known Q or Quentin as he had been called then, from the very start and could say for certain that the mug had been there as long as he could remember. It didn't take a great stretch of the imagination to guess that the Q didn't stand for Quartermaster, as everyone currently thought, but was in homage of Q’s real name.

For a moment, Tanner fought to prevent himself wording his thoughts and to defend Q from the members of the gossip group before the urge to speak disappeared and the agent managed to relax once more. It would certainly not do anyone any favours and most likely harm him personally if he were to accidentally compromise the Quartermaster.

Tanner would never know that his theory was incorrect.

Thankfully, he was distracted from his thoughts by the soft groan of the door as it was pushed open, the room’s occupants falling silent as they turned to meet the new comer. At the doorway, James Bond, known to most as Double O Seven, paused. He raised a blond eyebrow in question.

One of the underlings coughed. Bond had been an almost constant topic of discussion in the gossip corner and as such, seemed to have gained a strange immunity to the rumours which surrounded him almost constantly. He had never taken part in the practice, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know about it.

Shaking his head at his colleagues’ behaviour, the spy pushed through the crowd and to the sink. With quick, confident movements, he filled the small electric kettle and set it to boil before opening the mug cupboard and pulling out two mugs. There was an almost unheard gasp as he set down, first a plain black mug and then, the Q mug.

The room remained silent as the secret agent worked, pulling out the required items to create tea.

Bonds hands never stopped moving as the agent collected the leaves, sorted equal measures into the mugs, pulled the kettle off its plate and brewed the beverages. There was a science to making good tea and Bond seemed to nail it, working through the motions automatically.

He added milk and sugar to the Q mug and just milk to the black one before beginning his clean up, putting the tea, milk and sugar away before collecting a mug in each hand. He turned, shot a warning look towards the still silent group and pushed past them, disappearing out the door.

A few more seconds and the silence was broken, the group buzzing with questions and comments regarding the unusual scene they had just witnessed.

"Bond had the Q mug!" "Since when did Double O Seven drink tea?" "Is he suicidal? Q will murder him for touching his property!" "What the hell just happened?"

Tanner shot Eve another look. The female agent nodded. Slowly, the two turned and slipped from the group, leaving the room to return to their work.

\------

Q was facing the main screen when Bond showed up behind him, fingers flying across the keyboard before him as he watched the program before him change.

He didn't greet the Double O, seemingly oblivious to Bonds presence as the spy stepped closer, placing the Q mug down on the bench close to the computer.

Stepping back, the agent sighed and took a sip of his own tea, watching as his Quartermaster worked.

"I thought you didn't drink anything lacking in alcohol content."

Bond looked up from his tea. Q was still working but now his body was angled slightly, a silent signal to tell Bond that he was now willing to converse. 

Bond smiled into his mug.

"You may find it hard to believe, but I do on occasion, enjoy a cup of tea." he replied.

Q snorted.

"So, your presence here wasn't just an attempt to frighten my team?" he asked, glancing down at the keyboard before him.

Bond shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the empty room.

"If they were here, I am sure I wouldn't have to try. They are, however, currently holed up in the break room."

"Oh dear." Q replied, not sounding at all convincing. He reached for his mug and took a small sip before setting it down again. "And what is the rumour this time?"

Bond couldn't stop himself pointedly glancing at the mug.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

Q looked over his shoulder, trying to see what Bond was looking at. He followed those blue eyes down to the mug.

"Is that the rumour or is this just professional curiosity?" he asked.

Bond shrugged.

"Can't it be both?"

Q turned, leaning back against the bench. He reached out blindly, snatching the handle of the mug. Raising it to his mouth, he took another drink. After a few moments, he lowered the mug back onto the desk and crossed his arms of his chest, showing off a relaxed demeanour.

"Believe it or not, it was a present."

Bond stepped forward, placing his substantially less full black mug next to the white one. He turned his body, resting his hip against the bench as Q watched him, hands tucked in the pockets of his fitted pants.

"From who?" he questioned.

Q shot him a look.

"Does it matter?" he questioned.

"You treasure that bloody mug. And obviously, it had to come from someone within MI6. I would just like to know who is vying for my Quartermaster’s attention."

"Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Mr Bond? Would this be the reason why you felt the need to destroy all the mugs my staff bought?" Q teased.

Bond remained silent, staring at Q. 

The Quartermaster gave up. Bond never really responded to teasing as well as he hoped.

"If I remember correctly, it was a present from my brother."

Bond blinked in confusion, like he hadn't been expecting that answer.

"Your brother? That insane detective who we have caught stalking you several times?"

"His name is Sherlock and yes, your description is apt."

Bond glanced down at the mug again.

"Isn't it a breach of security, telling a family member the truth of our jobs?" the spy asked.

"My family has been involved in the workings of the British Government for many generations. Even if Sherlock wasn't a very, _very_ good detective, there are few secrets hidden from him. Besides, I have never said the letter on my mug refers to my job title."

Bonds face immediately lit up at the information Q had accidentally released.

"So, your real name starts with Q?" he asked.

Q cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to say anything, to lead Bond back into this particular conversation.

Thanks to Sherlock’s inability to respect his younger brother’s privacy and his habit of snooping, Bond had accidentally discovered Q’s last name many weeks before when the detective, whilst in a fit of boredom, had decided to invite himself to what turned into the first of many dates between the Quartermaster and spy.

Thankfully, the agent respected the Quartermaster and had promised not to use the information to try any underhanded methods to find Q’s first name. (As if he even could. There were enough fail safes in place that the moment Bond tried any snooping regarding the Holmes family, Mycroft would be pulling him off the street for a little chat.)

But that didn't mean he would ask every time the topic came up. Bond seemed to see it as a game, trying to get Q to tell him. And Q certainly wasn’t above playing hard to get.

"I believe my reply last time you asked would suffice yet again." The Quartermaster answered.

Bond nodded.

"Dropping it." he replied obediently.

Q turned back to his bench and pulled the keyboard closer, glancing up at the screen to try and find where he had been in the program before he had been distracted.

A warm, solid body pressed up against his back. Q couldn't stop the sigh as Bond pressed his nose to the nape of the younger man’s neck, his arms gripping the corners of the bench and trapping Q against him. After a few moments, Bond tilted his head, his mouth now level with Q’s ear.

"I will get it out of you someday Mr Holmes." he promised.

Q rolled his eyes but refused to react. After a few moments, he felt the rush of cold air as Bond stepped back. In his peripheral vision, Q saw the spy reach for his mug and turn away, the soft sound of footsteps the only thing to suggest that Bond had left the room.

Absentmindedly, he reached for his mug again. He paused, the mug half raised to his lips. He looked down at it. Slowly, he reached up and brushed the thumb of his free hand across the letter and numbers.

He had been honest with Bond when he had admitted that the mug was a gift from Sherlock. 

The detective had given it to him on his very first day in Q branch after a long rant about how Q’s employment had to be Mycroft’s doing and that he had raised Q to know better. Q had pointed out that Sherlock hadn't in fact raised his brother, leaving all the actual raising to their mother and that if he rejected the job, he was looking at a prison sentence.

Sherlock had offered his skills to look into the case and try and prove that MI6 were in the wrong but Q had stopped him, claiming that he was happy with the outcome. Sherlock probably would have accepted that answer if it hadn't been for Mycroft stopping by to congratulate Q on finding suitable employment and subsequently setting Sherlock off in an impressive round of sulking.

Despite this, Sherlock had gone out of his way to find the mug and present it to Q the next morning, adding that he expected his younger brother to become the Quartermaster soon. Q had refrained from pointing out that there were a lot of brilliant people between him as the newest member of Q branch and the old Quartermaster and he was glad he did. 

As Sherlock would have pointed out, regardless of how brilliant they are, almost everyone is an idiot compared to a Holmes.

Still, Q knew that the mug was Sherlock’s way of showing how proud he was of his younger brother and because of that, Q treasured it above all else. Like Bond’s ceramic bulldog, it was a symbol, a private message from a loved one.

Maybe one day, when Q finally gave in and introduced himself to Bond for the first time as Quentin Holmes, he would share the truth of the mug. He would explain how much that little gesture of faith from the most sceptical man in London meant to him. But for now it was all his, this little piece of humanity from Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
